


Homeward bound

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [18]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: All The Tropes, As in: Alfie attempts it, Attempted Smut, But can't catch a break, Countryside Fluff with kids and dog, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Future Fic, M/M, My questionable humour, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, wtma AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: About fifteen years later, in a house in the countryside, everything is alright. Except that Arthur still hasn't learned to knock, John is failing in his pursuit of Eradicating All Birds, and the Shelby children are on the slippery slope of illicit treehouse-building.Update: Now a series of one shots in the same setting, about Tommy and Alfie's adventures with kids.In the third chapter: A little slice of life. Charlie is a baby and the whole Shelby family comes to visit. Linda has a delicate disposition, John continues to be inappropriate. Finn climbs a tree. Alfie and Tommy have an exceptionally wonderful child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the following sweet request on tumblr: " I love your work sooooo much <3 They are just too sweet and warm I literally melted when I read them(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)Thank you writing these lovely posts❤️ Also I’m wondering what would it be like if Tommy and Alfie live together when they’re old:3? Like Vicious xd"  
> But with some age modifications, since I have a crippling fear of death and old age that I can't face right now. But I hope I captured the mood of banter and tooth-rotting fluff I believe the person is after. Aka: The fic where I just threw decency and good taste out the window, and wrote the thing that finally made the last of my teeth fall out. 
> 
> And I shall never apologize for writing things like this. 
> 
> There's a child here, because there had to be. I'll leave it up to you to figure out how it came to be. Adoption? Perhaps. Witchcraft mpreg? Maybe. It just fell down from the heavens above? Who knows! Also: I give exactly zero fucks about anything, I need Alfie and Tommy to be allowed to call each other husband. So that's a thing.

Alfie Solomons is a lucky bastard. That’s a thought that often crosses his mind. At least once every morning, when he gets to wake up in a bed with Thomas Shelby sleeping next to him.

This morning is no different. He wakes up to the sound of a bloody magpie in the tree outside the window. Fucking birds. Who knew the whole countryside was infested with ‘em? Though John sure does his best to change that, partly because Arthur is in a constant loop of complaining about the critters picking at his vegetables, and everyone is getting very tired of hearing it. Pity John such a lousy shot, otherwise it may have been a sound plan. Alfie helps him, mostly to give Cyril some exercise, but apparently Tommy has this aversion to killing animals unless necessary. He doesn’t admit it outright of course, but Alfie definitely notices the disapproving looks. So for the sake of peace in the household, he makes sure not to take any of the birds home. Perfect solution.

Alfie settles on his side to rest his eyes on Tommy. It’s a pleasant sight, alright. The years have been kind to him, there’s this eternally youthful look to his face. A few more lines around the eyes perhaps, and the shaved sides of his hair are silvery, but other than that, he looks very much the same as that first time he stepped into Alfie’s office all those years ago. He just smiles a bit more. Alfie would like to take partial credit for that.

Tommy sleeps a bit longer these days, too. Some of that crawling restlessness that’s always been etched in his bones has been chipped away over the years. It’s good for him. Maybe the horses help too. For all their stupidity, the animals do seem to have a calming effect on him. He vaguely remembers that conversation from so long ago, in the Garrison. Alfie’s always been of the opinion that in the choice between working with animals and people, you chose the animals. He decides that he’s been proven right in this theory.

Sometimes, he likes to make the insinuation that getting thoroughly fucked every night is also a factor in these prolonged periods of sleep. Mostly because Tommy gives him sharp glare whenever he does.

Tommy shifts a bit, rolling over onto his back, and Alfie catches eye of the scars as the blanket slips down to his waist. He’s got quite a few, granted, but his attention is always focused on the ones on his chest, right below his heart. And right next to it. Close fucking call. The last one, before Alfie made the statement that this was it: there was such a thing as running out of luck. And he was getting too old for this shit. Could’ve been the start of a whole debacle, but Tommy just nodded from the hospital bed. Maybe he was finally getting tired too. That life wore you out quickly. You got out. One way or the other. And the most likely way was a fucking coffin, which Alfie had no fucking plans to fix. Not for a long while.

The scars could’ve been a reminder of how bloody awful the world could be, but instead they just serve to remind him that yeah, they lived a dangerous fucking life, but somehow got out in time. But just barely. They remind him that things could’ve been a whole lot worse.

“What are you staring at?” Tommy’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“You, of course. It’s what I usually do.” Alfie wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close. Tommy is still drowsy enough from sleep to allow it, but in a few minutes, he’ll start complaining about ‘having things to do, and life can’t be spent in a bed’. But as of now, he just lays his head on Alfie’s chest.

“There’s been a lot of that over the years,” he says. “You should be sick of it by now.”

“Not by a long shot. Plan on doing it for quite some time yet.” Alfie professes. “I could look at you every second, of every day, for the rest of my fucking life and not get sick of it. See, you were blessed with that face, and I was blessed with these eyes that function at least decently in good lighting. So, it’s just the way it’s got to be.”

Tommy lifts his head slightly and gives him one of the signature ‘one eyebrow raised and thoroughly unimpressed’-looks. “If you want to fuck, you could just say so.”

“You know me better than that after all these years, love. I am a man of many words.” Alfie strokes his back. “But fine, since you lack my romantic finesse: Thomas, I’d like to fuck you. Preferably right now.”

Tommy braces his arms on his chest and leans down to kiss him, mostly to shut him up, Alfie guesses.

“Well, I happen to be in the mood. So, you can keep me in bed for a bit longer, if you make it worth my while.”

Alfie isn’t the one to say no.

“You know I always do.” He rolls them over and trails kisses down his neck. “I have my faults, hubris being one of them, but you could never accuse me of not taking good and proper care of you in bed.” Tommy’s breathing becomes deeper and he parts his knees to allow Alfie to settle between his thighs. Alfie grinds against him, just because he can, and lets out a satisfied moan.

“I could spend my entire bloody life like this.”

“In bed, or between my legs?”

“Both, obviously. Good place to be. If I by some mistake end up in heaven, it’s going to feel just like fucking you. Just that sensation, constantly. I’d bet my good leg on it.”

“If you don’t stop talking, you may find out sooner than you’d thought.” Tommy pushes his heels into the back of his thighs. “Just get on with it.” Alfie chuckles, sits back a little and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand-

The sound of a dog barking, and a pair of small feet drumming against the floorboards makes them both freeze. And they just about manage to straighten their features and get back under the cover before Charlie comes running into the room with Cyril in tow. The dog immediately tries to jump onto the bed, but Alfie is quick to push him down. There’s no better way of making sure Tommy will _most certainly not_ be in the mood anytime soon, than letting that dog into the bed. Charlie rambles excitedly.

“Me and Emily and Sibyl are going to work on our treehouse, and I need help with breakfast because you say I can’t go anywhere in the morning without eating first and-“

“Slow down there, lad,” Alfie chuckles. “Remember to breathe.”

Tommy shakes his head and their eyes meet. _He gets this from you._

“But Emily is already here, and she wants to go now!” Charlie is practically vibrating on his feet. “We’re going to meet Sybil by that big tree to see if the badger is still there. We think that maybe it’s dead and Sybil want’s to poke it with a stick to see and if we’re not there she will-“

“I’m sure she and the badger can wait a little while.” Tommy sits up. “Go to the kitchen, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Charlie is out the door in an instant, Cyril following close behind, barking happily.

Tommy swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and Alfie attempts to catch him by the waist.

“Yeah, this isn’t happening anymore,” Tommy states and dislodges himself from his grip. Alfie lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“So close, yet so far away.”

“And you call me dramatic.” Tommy shakes his head and starts getting dressed.

“You know, he may get the talking from me, but that boy couldn’t be still if you kept him on a leash. Reminds me of someone else.”

Tommy pulls on his jacket and indulges him in another kiss. Again, most likely to shut him up. 

 

When Alfie comes down to the kitchen a while later, the children have already disappeared. Together with the dog apparently.

“I got him to bring a sandwich at least,” Tommy explains with his back turned against him as he makes tea. “Don’t think we’ll be seeing him until it gets dark again.”

“Independence is the best thing you can give your child. Especially if the worst thing they can get up to is steal poles from the neighbour’s fence for a treehouse.”

“He did what?”

“Oh, it’s alright. Griffiths is fine with it. I talked to him. He’s the sort of man who appreciates a sense of entrepreneurship in the young ones.”

“He’s only fine with it because he’s terrified of you. We can’t have our son running around terrorizing our neighbours.” Tommy says disapprovingly.

Alfie laughs at this. “Have you ever heard that thing about not throwing stones in glass houses? Fine expression that. Reminds us all to consider our past sins at any given point in our lives.”

“I’ll throw one at you, if you’re not careful.” Tommy mutters.

“You know, we could always take advantage of the empty house,” Alfie walks up behind him, slips his hands down his waist, over his hips. “I’m sure May can handle things at the stables for a while longer.”

“I just got dressed,” Tommy protests mildly, but is already leaning into the touch. One of those days, apparently.

“But if you think about how many times in life you will get dressed, doing it one extra really isn’t something to fuss about.” Alfie whispers as he kisses the back of his neck. “Especially if it’s for your devoted husband, who would like to show his appreciation of you by doing all kinds of unholy things to your body.”

With a soft laugh, Tommy turns around to face him, and Alfie kisses him, pushing him up against the counter until he ends up sitting on top of it. Seems like he may get lucky after all. He unbuttons Tommy’s trousers and reaches in between his legs, drawing a moan from him. And God, if that sound doesn’t make him hard-

“You have a fucking bedroom! Why is this necessary?”

Arthur is standing in the doorway and Alfie is overwhelmed by that very familiar feeling of wanting to sort-of, maybe, shoot someone. Saying a silent prayer for patience with this man, he removes his hand, and thinks he can even hear Tommy breathe a sigh of frustration.

“There's just no escaping you, is there?” Alfie exclaims and glares at Arthur. “Why have I surrounded myself with you lot? Can’t even get some peace and quiet to fuck my husband in my own kitchen.”

Arthur blushes bright red.

“Morning Arthur,” Tommy says, calm as ever again, gets off the countertop and buttons his trousers, before continuing the disrupted process of making tea. “You know that concept we’ve been talking about; knocking? You should try it sometime.”

Arthur grumbles something and looks rather displeased.

“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Stop sulking and have some tea.” Tommy puts out an extra cup. “Your daughter is out poking a dead badger with a stick by the way, did you know that? And apparently stealing Griffiths’ fence poles.” Arthur sits down.

“Of course I know. I followed her here. Or, tried to at least. She outran me about halfway.”

“We have to do something about them scheming like this.” Tommy states. “They can’t steal things from our neighbours. You’ll have to talk to Emily.”

“How do you know it was her idea? Could just as well be Sybil. John is way too lenient with her, she is getting to be as wild as Esme that girl.” Arthur says. “And it’s just for a treehouse! Can’t be that big of a deal.”

“We both know it starts off that way, and then it spirals.”

“Spirals to where? Setting up a bookmaking business in the treehouse?” Arthur chuckles at his own joke. “Illegal betting on the ducks down in the pond?”

Alfie pours himself a cup of tea and smirks. “Careful Arthur, Thomas may get ideas.” Tommy doesn’t dignify him with an answer, but gives a ‘look’, before he goes back to the topic of the children’s decent into crime.

Alfie sits down by the table and listens as the two brothers argue over the possible, eventual consequences of treehouse-building using illicitly acquired materials. And he sort of forgives Arthur for barging in, as usual, and ruining his chances of getting some this morning. There’s always tonight. And Tommy will definitely be up for it then.

At the moment, he is pretty content just watching him. Tommy is busy with his now rather heated discussion with Arthur, and can’t tell him not to gawk. Alfie is happy to be able to gawk: he always enjoys it when Tommy gets riled up. The way he gestures, and how his eyes get that sharp look to them.

Yeah. Alfie Solomons is a lucky bastard alright.


	2. To build a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely Sunday afternoon in the garden, and a just as lovely evening. In which Charlie builds things, Cyril is very unhelpful, and Tommy and Alfie are still

The sun is shining from a sky free of clouds, filtering down through the leaves of the large oak tree that stretches its branches over the garden like a ceiling Little pools of light are formed on the lawn in between the soft shadows.

“Look papa!” Charlie calls out from where he’s sat, right by the large trunk. “Look what I made!”

“I’ll be right there, darling,” Tommy calls back, digging the shovel deep into the muddy ground. He glances up, just to make sure Charlie doesn’t wander off. But Charlie has already gone back to his project, so he turns his attention back to his own.

The metal scrapes against the mud as he deposits another shovelful of it onto the growing pile. Charlie babbles to himself in the distance, caught up in whatever he’s playing at the moment. The shovel hits something solid, and Tommy has to use the sole of his boot to push it down.

A bird sings on a nearby branch.

The object turns out to be a large rock, and once he’s gotten it loose and hefted it onto the pile, Tommy has to pause for a moment to catch his breath, brushing back a strand of hair from his face. The air filling his lungs is crisp and clear, and comes easily down his throat.

Breathing is easy these days.

“Papa!” Charlie is a bit impatient.

Tommy leaves the shovel and goes to see what he’s so eager to show him.

“What do you have there, love?” he crouches down next to his son.

“Look!” Charlie repeats and points to his creation, a seemingly random pile of rocks. “I’ve built a horse house.”

Tommy refrains from pointing out that a ‘horse house’ is technically called a stable. Charlie hasn’t quite picked up on that yet, despite spending so much time with him there. He’s mostly noted that it’s a large house, filled with horses. Therefore, it must be a horse house. Tommy can’t really argue with this logic

“That’s lovely,” he nods approvingly and looks very carefully at the creation, showing great interest. Upon closer inspection, Tommy sees that it could indeed be a house. “Do you have any horses who can live in there, yet?”

Charlie nods and very gently picks up a collection of twigs.

“See, this is Carl. And this is his husband Oliver,” he points to the two largest ones. “And this is their baby, Wilfred.”

Tommy smiles and looks back to the house. “It’s a very nice house you’ve built for them.”

“You can help me,” Charlie beams as he sets down his little branch family. “I need to find a flat rock. It’s for the door.”

Right then, a loud bark echoes throughout the quiet garden, as a massive, furry shape bolts around the corner of the house and comes rushing towards them. A flock of terrified birds lift from their spot in the apple tree as the dog passes them, giving up another bark.

“Cyril!” Charlie exclaims and rushes to meet him, seemingly just as excited. Soon, the two meet in a fond tumble, Charlie wrapping his small arms around the dog’s neck as a wet tongue slobbers all over his face.

Tommy stands up too, but he’s more interested in seeing who Cyril has in tow.

Alfie comes walking down the gravel path leading around the house, rifle hanging in a strap over his shoulder and with a bright smile on his face. The sunlight catches in some of the silvery strands in his beard.

Even after all these years, the sight still sends a jolt through the pit of his stomach

“We have returned from our heroic pursuits!” Alfie calls out. “The birds have yet to defeat us.”

Tommy walks up to meet him, and soon finds himself wrapped in a tight embrace and swept off his feet with a kiss. Alfie runs his hands through his hair but Tommy refrains from doing the same, his own being coated in dirt. But he rests his arms over Alfie’s shoulders, closing his eyes as he deepens the kiss.

“Daddy, _stop_!” Charlie exclaims and jams his hands in between their legs, attempting to separate them. “You’re being silly.

Laughing, Alfie hoists him up into his arms.

“Oh, really? Well, just you wait a few years, you’ll be just as silly, lad.” He pokes a finger into his belly. “When you meet someone lovely, with beautiful eyes. Bet you anything you’ll change your mind then.”

Charlie makes motion with his eyes that is probably supposed to be an eye roll, but he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. “Come look at my horse-house instead.”

“I’ve got to say hello first, don’t I?” Alfie grins slyly and digs another finger into his side.

Charlie shrieks with laughter when Alfie tickles him.

“Let me have a look at that house of yours,” he says once he’s finished tormenting their son, putting him back on his feet.

“Horse house,” Charlie points out, wagging a stern finger, before running ahead through the garden with Cyril jumping in circles around him. Alfie’s arm comes to rest around Tommy’s waist as they follow.

“How’s the trench coming along?” he squints in the sunlight, eyes turned towards the edge of the garden. “Seems like you’re doing one hell of a job over there.”

“Well, digging is my special skill, you know” Tommy says.

“Yeah, funny that. Almost as if you’ve done it before, innit” Alfie chuckles, before adding in a soft tone, “But you know we could have someone else do it, yeah? Just say the word.”

“I’m attempting a sweeping romantic gesture here.” Tommy elbows him lightly in the ribs. “To even the playing field a bit. You wanted more room for your potatoes, I’m giving you more room for them.”

Alfie kisses his cheek, and doesn’t push the matter. He’s long since learnt to notice when Tommy’s having a bad day, and this is not one of them. No, this is one of those days when the dark memories are far away. There are a lot of those now. His head is so filled with other things –Alfie, Charlie, the horses… there’s hardly any room for anything else. They still linger at the back of his mind, and on some days, they’ll be closer, clinging just at the edge of his consciousness. It’s not too bad- he gets through it quite easily by occupying himself with other things. But he doesn’t touch the shovel on those days.

“Why are you walking so slowly!” Charlie calls to them and they lengthen their steps a bit.

Alfie gets the same introduction to Charlie’s horses as Tommy, and he listens with undivided interest. Then, Charlie thinks they should help him find a flat rock that he can use for a door.

As the sun sinks behind the trees and the air slowly cools around them, Alfie and Tommy help find Charlie several flat rocks, Cyril brings large sticks which are of no use, and Charlie supervises the whole thing.

They end up staying in the garden for several hours, until Alfie finally decides that people in this household need to eat.

“I’ll make us some dinner,” he says and gets up from his spot by the tree where he's seated himself, giving Cyril a pat on the head in passing. “Someone has to keep you two running, right?”

Tommy stays out in the garden with Charlie, who is not at all in the mood to go inside. And it’s been a week of rain, so how could he deny him that? He does manage to get him indoors for dinner, but as soon as he’s finished eating, Charlie is out the door again, eager to make the most out of the remaining hours of sunlight.

Tommy watches him through the dining room window, still seated at the table. Charlie is digging through the pile of soil by the trench, probably in search of more rocks. He’ll need a bath after this… When his eyes slip down to his own hands, he notices that he hasn’t quite gotten all the dirt out from under his nails. It’s on his shirtsleeves too, but he’s just forgotten about it until now...

“Go wash up if you’d like, love,” Alfie says and begins stacking the plates. “Know how much you hate looking anything but absolutely pristine. I’ll take care of this. As the bloody exemplary specimen of a man I am.” He chuckles to himself. “You can show me later just how grateful you are, eh? In bed-“

“It’s fine,” Tommy says.

Charlie is deeply concentrated on adding a wall around his project, balancing small rocks on top of each other.

“Hey-“

Tommy shifts his gaze to Alfie, who is giving him a reassuring look.

“It’s our back garden, innit, ain’t a bloody thing that could happen,” he says, seeing straight through him as usual. “I’ll keep an eye on him, yeah?”

Of course Tommy knows nothing will happen. Logically. It’s still hard, this. Years of constant watchfulness have ingrained the feeling into his backbone. He thought he’d chafed most of it away, but apparently being a parent comes with a whole new set of rules.

He goes upstairs anyway, reasoning that he needs to learn not to be so fucking paranoid all the time.

When he returns to the kitchen a little while later, now dressed in a fresh set of clothes and overall pleasantly clean again, he looks out the kitchen window to find the lawn empty.

“Where’s Charlie?”

Alfie looks up from the dishes and glances out the window.

“Oh he was there just a second ago. Probably just behind one of the trees or something,” Alfie says absentmindedly, going back to the dishes as he hums quietly to himself.

Tommy goes out in the garden.

“Charlie!”

The garden is gaping empty. Forgoing shoes, Tommy walks barefoot out onto the lawn, damp grass chilling the soles of his feat. Charlie isn’t in any of his usual hiding places, behind the rose bushes or the large oak.  
It only takes those few seconds for all the old instincts to kick in, shooting like an arrow straight down his spine and making a cold lump settle in the pit of his stomach. His right hand instantly reaches for his gun, fingers grasping nothing but air. It’s been a long time since he had the weight of the holster resting against his ribs, but the habit is deeply ingrained.

“Charlie?” he calls out again, still without receiving an answer.

The evening is calm, filled with birdsong and bathing in the soft light of a setting sun and it somehow feels deceptive-

He hasn’t heard a car. Was only gone for a few minutes. There’s no way-

The silence is broken by a familiar bark.

Slipping in through the opening in the low wall surrounding the garden, Cyril comes running with Charlie in tow. Tommy feels the tightness in his chest melt away and he draws a deep breath all the way down into his lungs, a relieved smile crossing his face as he watches the pair approach him.

“Cyril chased a rabbit and I followed him!” Charlie pants and rests his hands on his knees, cheeks flushed from the run. “But it got away.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Tommy says and puts a hand on his back, ushering him towards the door. “Cyril should leave the poor rabbits alone. He knows that,” He scratches the dog behind the ears. “Don’t you Cyril?”

“Yeah, he’s clever. He just does what he wants sometimes.” Charlie attempts to go back into the garden as Tommy leads him into the kitchen.

“No, it’s time for bed now,” Tommy states. “There’s a day tomorrow, too.”

“There’s a day now!” Charlie protests and squirms a little. “Look, it’s still sunny!”

Sunny is a question of definition –some lingering light is painting the horizon in a pink hue, but there’s no sun to speak of. Definitely time for bed.

“I’ll read you an extra chapter,” Tommy coaxes and begins to close the door behind them

“I just need to fetch the horses!” Charlie slips out through the crack before Tommy has time to stop him.

“Just like his father, ain’t he?” Alfie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Impossible to keep still more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Let’s just hope he finds someone who can keep up then,” Tommy says, leaning into the embrace. He is enveloped in a clean scent of soap as he rests the back of his head against Alfie’s chest. “Help ground him a bit.”

“Luckiest bastard on earth, they'll be,” Alfie states and holds him a bit tighter.

They stay like that for a while, looking out at Charlie who already has forgotten all about sleeping and is adding more rocks onto his ‘horse house’. Tommy decides that if anyone is ever to get some sleep around this house, he’ll have to do something about the situation.

“Charlie!” he calls out to the boy. “Bed. Now.”

“But I’ve got stuff to do!” Charlie whines.

Alfie chuckles fondly and presses a kiss onto Tommy’s cheek. Then he goes to fetch their son.

“Well, then I guess we’re doing it the hard way,” he says and takes Charlie into his arms, hoisting him high up in the air and making him shriek with joy.

“Wait, the horses!” Charlie points towards his sticks. “They need to sleep indoors until the house is finished. They’ll get a cold.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Alfie says. “Horse colds are the worst colds, from what I’ve heard. Awful stuff.” With Charlie on one arm, Alfie bends down and carefully picks up the sticks, depositing them in Charlie’s hands, before making his way towards the house again.

Tommy stands in the doorway and waits for them. His husband. Holding their son in his arms.

Sometimes, he can’t quite believe that he got to be this lucky. After everything.

A little while later, Charlie is, despite his protests, freshly bathed and safely tucked in bed. Alfie is downstairs in the kitchen presumably making a bread dough, and Tommy hears him tinker with the dishware and make quiet small talk with Cyril. He turns off the light in Charlie’s bedroom, leaving just one on the nightstand.

“So, where were we?” He sits down next to Charlie in the bed and puts his glasses on, opening the book to search for the right chapter.

“They are in the old house, and the bad guys are looking for them,” Charlie reminds him, nestling a little closer into his side and letting out a pleased sigh. It makes Tommy's heart ache in his chest.

It should be impossible to love someone this much. 

He finds the page and begins reading.

“Carl crouches down in front of the door and looks through the keyhole. ‘We should’ve had a newspaper,’ he ponders. Eve frowns. ‘Do you really think it says in the paper how to get out of locked rooms?’-“

“Do the voices,” Charlie pats his arm lightly.

Tommy does the voices.

Well into the second chapter, he senses someone watching them and glances up from the page to see Alfie standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and with a fond smile behind the beard.

“Why don’t you come in here instead of just lurking?” Tommy looks back down at the page and adjusts his glasses a bit.

“Yes!” Charlie exclaims. “It’s really exciting.”

“Think I’ve had me enough excitement to last a lifetime,” Alfie says, but comes in anyway, Cyril following close behind as usual.

Charlie gets to sit in Alfie’s lap to make room, and Tommy curls up against his side. The position is so familiar that he sinks into it without even thinking, head resting on the usual spot right in the juncture between Alfie’s shoulder and his chest.

He continues reading.

After three chapters, Tommy closes the book. He’s felt Alfie’s arm grow heavier around his waist the last few minutes, and now he appears to have fallen asleep, head tipped backwards and mouth hanging open just slightly. Charlie isn’t fully awake either, but still protests.

“No, one more,” he yawns, blinking in an attempt to keep his eyes open.

“That’s enough for tonight, love,” Tommy kisses his forehead. “I’ve got to put your daddy to bed. Or you’ll have to suffer his snoring all night.”

Alfie opens one eye.

“What is this I hear?” he mutters and yawns as well. “I never snore. Such blatant lies.”

“You do snore,” Charlie states and looks slyly at him. For a moment, Tommy tenses up just a bit and feels heat creep up his neck, thinking of all the other things Charlie could hear from the bedroom… 

“When you fall asleep on the couch,” Charlie concludes before yawning again and Alfie laughs, giving Tommy a smug look.

Charlie is already more or less asleep when Alfie tucks him in and Tommy closes the curtains to block out the bright spring night.

“Where’s Horse?” Charlie mutters and blearily looks around the bed.

“That creature is constantly on the run, ain’t he?” Alfie sighs, carefully pulling the blanket up around him. “You sure he ain’t secretly alive and starts walking about the minute you look away? Would sure explain a thing or two.”

Lucky for both Charlie and Alfie, Tommy always knows where to find missing objects. This goes for both Alfie’s glasses and runaway plush toys.

He reaches in under the bed and finds Horse, placing the large dog stuffie in Charlie’s outstretched arms. When Finn gifted it to Charlie, he was at the age where every animal was a horse, due to the constant mention of the word at home. Cyril was a ‘horse’ too, for quite awhile. This also resulted in the quite imaginative name.

“I can’t change it now, he’ll be confused,” Charlie stated once he was old enough to understand that pets usually have actual names. And so Horse -the dog- got to keep the name.

“So, Horse is safely returned, and all is well,” Tommy smooths Charlie’s hair back and kisses his forehead. “Think we can say goodnight now?”

“Mhm,” Charlie sinks a little deeper into the pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Alfie carefully steps over Cyril, who is sound asleep on the carpet to kiss Charlie on the cheek, making him giggle a bit when the beard tickles him. “Sleep tight.”

Tommy is lingering in the doorway and Alfie’s hand settles on the small of his back as he leads the way out into the hallway, carefully closing the door. He makes sure to leave a tiny crack where light can seep in.

“So, we have the rest of the evening to ourselves,” Alfie whispers. “Should we go downstairs for a while? Or straight to bed, eh? For some not so child-friendly activities?” His hand slips a bit further down.

“I was thinking of the not so child friendly activity of having a drink,” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “But after that, I may just be in the mood.”

“How about you slip into something a bit more comfortable then, love?” Alfie suggests. “Give us something pretty to look at. And I’ll get a fire going.”

“When you say comfortable, I assume you don’t mean your old flannel shirt?”

“Maybe if you wear _only_ that.” Alfie wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and the gesture just makes Tommy shake his head, letting out a short laugh.

“I'll see what I can do,” he promises. “I aim to please.”

While Alfie goes down to the living room, Tommy strips to his underclothes and slips on the light grey silk robe, the one he knows Alfie likes, before venturing downstairs. He passes Charlie’s bedroom on the way, and can’t help looking in through the ajar door. Charlie appears to be sound asleep.

Alfie looks up from the fireplace when he comes into the living room,

“God have fucking mercy on my soul,” he groans and clutches his chest, getting to his feet. “I’m getting old, love. Sights like these could very well cause my heart to stop. Think of that.”

Tommy rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but has long since stopped trying to hide the smile they always bring to his face. He pours himself a whiskey that he sets down on the coffee table.

“Well, you should stop buying me these, then,” he quips and lights a cigarette, seating himself on the couch. “For your own health.”

“Think I’ll take my chances,” Alfie sits down next to him, setting his feet on the ottoman and running a hand over his shoulders. “I’d die a happy man, at the very least.”

Tommy reaches up and takes the hand, gracing his thumb over the rings. He pays a little extra attention to the one on his ring finger.

“So, tell me about your day.” He takes a drag on his cigarette. “How did your and John’s war on innocent birds go?”

“Ah, well, that’s a story worth telling,” Alfie states and sinks a bit further down in the couch, resting heavy hand on Tommy’s thigh.

Alfie tells him in great detail of his day, the story dragging on as usual. It lasts until Tommy has finished his cigarette and has Alfie’s head in his lap, combing his fingers through his hair. He swallows down the last bit of his whiskey and sets the glass down.

“John and Esme are having another kid,” Alfie says, suddenly. “John’s fucking ecstatic about it. Told me earlier today, he did. In between all the cursing.” He laughs to himself. “Bloody, hell, for all the years that gun’s been fucking welded to his hand, he’s a pretty lousy shot, your brother.”

Tommy hums.

Alfie continues. “Don’t let Esme know I tattled, though. Recon she’s planning on telling you lot at Sunday dinner.”

“Starting to get pretty crowded over there,” Tommy muses and leans his head against the back of the couch. The comment makes Alfie chuckle again.

“Oh darling, if I could put a baby in you, this house would be filled to the brim with’em,” he says fondly and runs a hand over his stomach. “Could have ten. Twelve. Easily.”

“I’m well aware,” Tommy says and quirks an eyebrow. “Lucky then that we need to take a slightly longer route.” He trails his thumb over the lines on Alfie’s forehead. “Don’t know if I’d be up for quite that many.” The flames cast a warm light on Alfie's face, enhancing all the little lines and angles, and Tommy thinks, as he so often does, that he’s married to the most handsome man in the entire bloody world.

A light breeze makes the curtains flutter and brings the sound of distant birdsong into the room. Alfie’s hand is still absentmindedly resting on his stomach.

“But maybe… one more?” he suggests carefully, as if he’s been considering whether to ask or not for an uncharacteristically long time.

The question doesn’t really surprise Tommy. He knows Alfie’s previous statement isn’t one of his usual exaggerations; Alfie would happily fill their entire, quite large, home with children.

Tommy thinks of the very first time they spoke about this; how utterly terrifying the mere idea felt. It seems like an eternity ago. And this time, he just looks down at Alfie and feels nothing but calm. Thinks of their son who is sleeping safely upstairs, and thinks that with this man, nothing is completely impossible. Apparently.

And he would be lying if he said the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. Then again, a lot of thoughts do.

“Maybe,” he says, feeling a smile tug at his lips and leaves it at that for now.

In one of his usual sweeping gestures, Alfie sits up, pulls him into his lap and in for a kiss, his strong arms encircling Tommy’s waist. Tommy revels in it, as usual. This is just one of all the things that have only gotten better over the years. Tommy can’t quite understand people who tire of kissing the same person. He buries his hands in Alfie’s hair and loses himself in it, feeling a hand wander up his thigh. Alfie nips just lightly at his lips, sighing into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

Tommy is just about to suggest they move this to the bedroom when the floorboards creek as two small feet pad across them, and they break the kiss to see Charlie appear in the living room with Horse firmly clasped in his arms.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a six-year-olds usual curiosity.

“Charlie, thought you’d be asleep by now,” Tommy says softly and gets out of Alfie’s lap. Charlie shakes his head. 

“Can I sit here with you for a while?”

“Of course, darling,” Alfie opens his arms invitingly and smiles. “Just look at these arms. Plenty of room for both my boys.”

Running over the floor on bare feet, Charlie more or less leaps onto Alfie’s lap, burrowing himself in his chest. Alfie wraps one arm around Tommy and the other around Charlie.

Charlie doesn’t say anything for a while, just seems perfectly content with simply sitting there

“Any reason you couldn’t sleep?” Tommy eventually asks quietly.

Charlie shrugs. “Just couldn’t. And it’s boring to be awake all alone.” He pauses, before hesitantly adding. “And Horse thinks there’s something under the bed.”

“Would it help if I checked?” Tommy wonders.

“No. Because it’s only there when you’re not looking,” Charlie states firmly, rubbing his eyes. “And Cyril is asleep.”

“How about we try our bed, then?” Alfie suggests and strokes his hair. “Pretty sure it’s free of mysterious intruders. And it’s a huge thing, innit. So we’ll all fit.”

Charlie gives a sleepy sigh, clearly very much in need of a bed. “Okay.”

The bed is a huge thing indeed, but they still end up huddled together in the middle with Charlie between them.

Apparently feeling safe knowing there are no creatures under this bed Charlie is sound asleep within moments, but they silently agree not to move him. And the only creature coming into the bedroom is Cyril, who wants to be where everyone else is. The dog jumps onto the foot of the bed and Tommy lets out a displeased huff, mostly on principle, but of course lets him stay there.

“They really are something else, aren’t they.” Alfie is looking at Charlie with so much tenderness that his face seems to glow. “Kids,” he adds, as if Tommy would need further clarification. And he thinks that maybe another one isn’t such a bad idea. He doesn’t say it yet, needs some time to think it over. But he smiles at Alfie through the darkness of the bedroom, reaching across Charlie’s sleeping form to take his hand. Perhaps Alfie can see what’s running through his mind, because he strokes his knuckles softly.

Charlie mutters something in his sleep. Tommy looks at him. And he realises he doesn’t actually need _that_ much time.


	3. Where we belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little slice of life. Charlie is a baby and the whole Shelby family comes to visit. Linda has a delicate disposition, John continues to be inappropriate. Finn climbs a tree. Alfie and Tommy have an exceptionally wonderful child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really planning on turning this into something very deep and profound and slightly angsty about the perils of being a parent. But then I was just so Fed Up with angst, and decided to tackle my writer’s block the only way I know how: fluff. I hope it’s still enjoyable <3

 

A shrill cry digs itself into the peaceful darkness surrounding him, and Alfie fights to open his eyes. It’s absolutely impossible. Someone has sewn his eyelids shut. His hazy brain struggles to make sense of the sound, decipher what it means and what he’s supposed to do about it… He shifts uneasily.

“I’ll take care of it.” Tommy’s voice whispers right next to his ear. Soft lips brush against his cheek. Then he finally manages to open his eyes to see Tommy already getting out of bed, decidedly more awake than Alfie himself.

“’s okay,” he mutters and sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Think it’s my turn.”

“Go back to sleep,” Tommy says with a tired smile, pulling his dressing gown on and wrapping the strap tautly around his narrow waist. “Counting on you to be sociable tomorrow. Or, well, today.”

Then he pads out of the bedroom on bare feet, as Alfie remains seated on the mattress, too dazed to make any decisions of his own. He doesn’t lay back down though, holding his breath as he listens to the cries. They stop after just a short while. Deciding to forgo sleep a little while longer, already being awake and all that, Alfie swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Soft mutters seep out from the nursery and he finds Tommy there, walking slowly to and fro over the carpet, rocking Charlie gently in his arms. The moon casts silvery tendrils of light over his pale features, shimmers in the silk as it moves with his steps. Allowing himself to simply stand there for a moment, Alfie feels a smile stretch across his lips. If he was ever tired, he forgets about it completely at that moment.

“Thought I told you to sleep,” Tommy whispers, eyes still fastened on Charlie’s peaceful face as a smile plays in the corner of his mouth. “How else are we going to live through having my family here today?”

“Just enjoying the view, is all.” Alfie does thoroughly enjoy it. “As a husband and a father it’s my prerogative to watch my better half take such great care of our child.” Coming to stand right next to Tommy, he smooths his palm over the lean muscles on his back, the silk slipping easily under his fingers. “Especially when he looks so stunningly beautiful while doing so.”

With a soft outlet of air that could be either a sigh or a laugh, Tommy lays Charlie down in his crib, fingers ghosting gently over the rounded cheek before they reach to pull the blanket up around him. Alfie draws him close to his side as they both linger for a while. The baby shifts in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping the blanket and mouth opening in a yawn. Somewhere in his chest, he feels an almost painful clench.

“Can you believe it?” he sighs, nose buried in Tommy’s disheveled mop of hair. Tommy smiles.

“No. Don’t know if I ever will.”

… 

Despite the nightly escapades, Alfie awakes early the following morning, blinking in the pale sunlight as it shines through the curtain. Maybe this ridiculous new schedule has finally ingraining itself into his body? Though his heavy eyelids and muddled brain say otherwise. A happy babbling is coming from the nursery –Charlie is as per usual awake before anyone else. Alfie slips out from the comfortable heat under the duvet, careful to not disturb Tommy who is still sleeping peacefully. Tommy stirs a bit when Alfie moves, curling up slightly when the familiar body disappears from his grasp.

Charlie lets out a particularly loud noise –albeit still a happy one- and Alfie tears himself away from the sight of his sleeping husband and goes to take care of his son.

In the crib, Charlie has rolled over onto his stomach and is now fully occupied with chewing on the corner of his pillow.

“Good morning, love.” Alfie picks him up and earns a happy squeal. He shushes him gently, “Hush now, let’s see if we can get papa to sleep for a little while longer, hmm?” If Charlie agrees, he’s not doing much to help this endeavor, continuing to announce his happiness about the prospect of a new day with incoherent noises.

Cyril follows them downstairs, and while Alfie prepares Charlie’s breakfast he lets the dog out into the garden to watch him scare the life out of some poor magpies as he runs laps around the lawn.

“Alright. I firmly believe, that you and I as a team, can do this.” Alfie sets the porridge down in front of Charlie, seating himself next to the high chair. “Know that this is an ongoing battle, but let me just tell you: I won’t be the one giving up.” Charlie frowns, clumsily grabs the spoon and bangs it against the table. The display makes Alfie chuckle. “Don’t know why you’re so displeased, love.”

 He gently pries the spoon away from Charlie’s little hand, as always marvelling both at how strong those tiny fingers are, and how something so adorable can even exist in this world. Scooping up a miniscule amount of porridge in the spoon, he begins the long process of trying to get it from the bowl to Charlie’s belly.

A little while later, half of the porridge has ended up on Alfie’s face, the other half on Charlie’s, and very little in Charlie’s mouth. But Alfie had the foresight to make a rather large portion this time, so hopefully it’s still enough. Charlie seems completely at peace with having most of his breakfast covering his face. 

“This is a very interesting way to eat.”

Alfie looks up to see Tommy leaning against the doorframe with an amused smile on his face. Completely dressed in a waistcoat and trousers, sadly. Although, Alfie supposes that keeping the silk far away from Charlie in any situation involving food is a rather sensible idea.

“Well, it’s this new method, innit, where the food is just sort of absorbed through the skin.” Alfie gestures towards his own rather sticky beard to emphasize this.

Charlie uses Alfie’s momentary distraction to catapult a spoonful of porridge at his face, hitting him square in the eye. It’s only luck that he’s wearing his glasses. Highly offended, Alfie looks at his son, who seems entirely pleased with himself.

“This is the thanks I get, eh?” Alfie takes his glasses off and surveys the mess. “You are highly unappreciative of my efforts.”

Laughing softly, Tommy comes to pick Charlie up, unconcerned with the large amount of porridge adorning both his face and hands.

“He’s worse than you with food,” Alfie states, depositing the bowl in the sink.  

“Don’t remember ever trying to eat with my entire face,” Tommy quips. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love,” he then says to Charlie. “Let your daddy get all that gunk out of his beard.” Babbling happily, Charlie puts both hands on Tommy’s face, smearing porridge all over him. 

“Oh, it’s fine, been covered in far worse things, haven’t I?” Alfie fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove top, before turning around with a question already forming on his lips. “I can-“

“Alfie, it’s fine,” Tommy says, voice filled with calm reassurance, and Alfie continues with his initial plan of making him and Tommy breakfast.

“Well, I suppose we better brace ourselves,” he states as he produces a whisk and a bowl. “Whole Shelby clan coming to invade our house and all.”

“God help us,” Tommy mutters in a quite convincing impression of Linda. Alfie snorts out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t ask him, if I were you.”

 

…

 

Apparently, a baby is the kind of occasion that requires full attendance, and so a few hours into the afternoon, the house is swarming with children, adults, and adults behaving like children (John). Ada has come all the way from London, profusely apologizing on behalf of Jessie who’s tied up in something. But she promises to come around soon bearing inappropriate, radicalizing gifts.

For now, the characteristic chaos following the Shelby clan wherever they go is manageable, as the children are out playing in the backyard with Cyril, leaving only the adults to stir up trouble in the kitchen. They are gathered around the table to marvel at the wonder that is the newest member of the family. Arthur and Linda’s boy lingers too, seating himself in his father’s lap to get a good look at this clearly very interesting little person.

Charlie giggles where he sits in Tommy’s arms, legs dangling over one of them and back propped against Tommy’s chest. He is seemingly enjoying the attention. Arthur insinuates that maybe he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, to which Alife responds that this is the most intelligent child ever to have existed in all of England, so of course he understands. 

Alfie fulfils his duties as host by making tea and ensuring that the whole lot gets fed.

“Don’t tell me you had time to bake this?” John groans when Alfie sets down a basket of bread, the corner of his mouth twitching when he sees the excited glint in Finn’s eyes.  

“Yeah, well it’s mostly just waiting, innit.” Alfie shrugs, seating himself next to Tommy on the kitchen sofa and wrapping an arm loosely around his waist. He reaches out to let Charlie grab onto his fingers. “Bet even you could wrap your head around it if you gave it a try.”

“You’re setting impossible standards for husbands everywhere!” John complains through a mouthful of bread, which leads to him and Esme getting into a little discussion concerning John’s lacking skills in the kitchen.

The others leave them to it, still fully focused on Charlie.

“He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes!” Ada squeals and caresses his cheek gently, eyes shining. She receives some looks from the other parents. “Yeah, yeah settle down, all your babies are adorable. Let me just have this moment.”

“Where did the baby come from?” Billy wonders, tugging at his mother’s dress sleeve. He looks from her round belly to Tommy. Then back again. “Did Tommy have him in his belly?” Linda has the sense to answer before any of the less equipped parties –her husband- attempts to do so. Or John has time to make some smart comment.

“No, the baby was in a special house, for babies whose parents can’t take care of it.”

Alife feels the tiniest shift under his hand as Tommy tenses up and notes the twinge of unease in the pit of his own stomach. This could be going in an unpleasant direction…

“That’s really sad,” Billy states, eyebrows sloping into a concerned frown.

“It is. All babies should have someone who takes care of them and loves them,” Linda says solemnly. “But the good thing is that people who want a baby can go there, and the baby gets to come home with them.” She smiles reassuringly at her son. “So, now the baby is here with Tommy and Alfie, and that’s good, isn’t it?”

The knot in his stomach unravels and they share a quick look, him and Linda. A moment of mutual understanding.

 Billy nods thoughtfully and smiles.

“Yeah. That’s very good.”

The door to the garden flies open and Sam shows up on the threshold, bouncing up and down.

“Billy, stop looking at the baby and come play with us!” he pants, clearly having run across the lawn. “I’ve only got Cyril on my team and he doesn’t understand the rules.”

“But I’m not done yet!” Billy complains and stares a bit more intently at the small human in Tommy’s arms, as if to ingrain it in his mind.

“Why don’t you go out to your cousins?” Arthur says and lifts Billy off his lap. “Baby’s still going to be here when you get back. And you’ll have your very own at home, soon enough.”

Satisfied with this, Billy leaves the kitchen. But not until he’s managed to convince Finn to come with him. It’s an extra treat for all the nephews and nieces when uncle Finn visits, because he _can run really fast, climb trees and is an expert at building tree houses_. Naturally he’s popular among the kids. And will most likely be gone for the rest of the afternoon.  

When they’ve watched Finn get dragged away from his chair and close the door behind him and Billy, John turns to Alfie with a bright grin.

“So, how’s fatherhood treating you, mate?” He slaps Alfie’s back, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. “You used to spending the nights up changing nappies instead of between Tommy’s legs?” Arthur coughs very loudly.

“John!” Tommy covers Charlie’s tiny ears for some reason, looking uncharacteristically appalled at his brother’s insinuations. John’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What? It’s not like he understands?”

Linda has gone an alarming shade of red and Esme kicks her husband under the table. Polly and Ada are as always greatly amused by Linda’s delicate disposition.

“I’ll have you know that I take very good care of Thomas, don’t you worry,” Alfie retorts with an indignant huff. The nerve of some fucking people…

“Oh, come on, no way that you’re getting it nightly.”  
Yeah, John’s just doing this to fuck with Linda, the poor woman. Alfie would bet his left foot on that. Though Tommy doesn’t seem very amused either, so he bites back any witty responses and takes a mouthful of tea instead, settling with giving John a pointed look and a quirked eyebrow. John can make what he will of that.

“Well, I’m very glad we could squeeze this subject in, somehow,” Tommy mutters. “Now let’s please talk about absolutely anything else.” He turns his attention back to Charlie, his expression softening.

“Don’t mind him,” Linda says, gladly taking the opportunity to change the course of the conversation. “It can be difficult, the first few months.” The blush creeps down her neck. “And- I not just the-“ she clears her throat, bless her soul. “The- well, the-“

“Sex?”  Polly smirks, and now it’s Arthur’s turn to look disapproving.

“Yes.” Linda regains her bearings with a calming breath and a gulp of tea. “Well, of course it’s important to make time for each other, but there’s a lot more-“ she goes on for a little bit on the subject of being a new parent, and they all indulge her. “…It’s all a matter of practice, I think. It can be rough to begin with,” she finishes off.

“It… hasn’t been too bad,” Tommy says before Alfie can do so.

“Bullshit, you’re not telling me he’s this saintly all the time?” Arthur chuckles. “Give him here for a bit.” He reaches out and Tommy carefully deposits Charlie in his arms, hands cradling him as if he were made of glass.

Charlie lets out a happy gurgling noise when Linda shifts closer to and allows him to grab onto her finger. The blush on Linda’s cheeks has faded and she smiles down at the boy, unconcerned with the drool she’s now getting all over her wedding ring.

“Nah, but…” Alfie tries to pick just one of the many things on his mind to say: What’s a few midnight wake up calls and a face full of porridge, and sticky fingers all over your clothes when you’ve got a fucking child? Your very own child. That you’ve longed and waited for fucking years to have in your life? And when you look at that child, it feels like your heart may just swell enough to break your ribcage, and you suddenly just understand what it’s all about…

“It’s worth it,” Tommy fills him in with calm certainty, looking up just as Alfie’s eyes shift to his face. And their eyes meet for a moment in that silent understanding. Arthur gives a response and the conversation keeps going around them. But Alfie isn’t aware of it right then.

The teapot is emptied and then filled back up, a bottle of whiskey is brought out, allowing for a glass or so. Charlie gets to sit in everyone’s lap and finds himself stunningly in the treatment, just as happy to tug at Esme’s long braid as he is burying his fingers in Ada’s suit jacket. An incredibly well behaved and all around wonderful child, he is. And Alfie is the luckiest man in the entire world…

It’s not until an early dinner has come and gone that Charlie begins to fuss a bit, screwing his face up and whining as he waves his hands in protest of his current situation.

“Think there’s been enough excitement for today,” Tommy says then, reaching out to carefully take the baby from Polly as she lifts him off her lap. Getting to his feet, he cradles him against his chest and rocks him gently. Charlie immediately settles down, yawning and blinking slowly. Tommy leans down and gives Alfie’s cheek a quick kiss. “I’ll put him to bed.”

As he leaves the room, Alfie hears him speak softly to Charlie. “Yeah, I understand how you feel. People are exhausting… Should we read something before we go to sleep? That book about the dog, maybe?”

Alfie’s eyes linger on his retreating back and then the empty doorway, his heart feeling so big and light that it could probably lift him out of his chair.

It’s not until someone clears their throat behind him that he realises he’s not alone in the room and his attention snaps back to the family. He is receiving looks. Ada is grinning so wide it looks like her face will just fucking split in two.

“What?” he grunts and tries to hide his reddening cheeks behind a teacup. “Can’t a man enjoy the view of his husband leaving a room without being fucking scrutinized?”

“It’s just nice being surrounded by such domestic bliss,” Polly says with a quirked eyebrow and sips on her tea. “Glad that I’m staying over to soak it in properly.”

The briefly paused conversation picks back up right where it left off, but Alfie is honestly too exhausted to join. Sitting down for longer periods of time sends his mind into a sleepy blur. It’s not too bad though, just to be seated there and listen to the myriad of familiar voices. Arthur is currently talking about cabbage, he thinks, giving a more detailed description of the ins and out of growing this crop than anyone could ever wish for.

 Something crosses his mind.

“Oi, Arthur, a word.” Alfie nods towards the door leading to the garden, and despite looking a bit befuddled, Arthur follows him out of the kitchen and onwards out onto the gravel surface bordering the grass. The sound of the children laughing travels across the lawn from the edge of the garden. Finn has been roped into a game of tag and is chasing Billy down as the boy squeals happily.

“So, I’ve got a request of sorts, yeah?” Alfie says, rolling his shoulders to wring the tension from his back. “Or, me and Tommy have one. Of course it’s more of a question, right. And Tommy didn’t want to make a whole big thing out of it-“

“Out with it, mate,” Arthur urges him, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Getting me all worked up over here.”  

“Well, the thing is,” Alfie begins, tugging at his beard as he suddenly finds himself struggling to find the right words. “The world’s a scary fucking place, innit? Sure, I’d like to think we’ve eliminated a lot of risks by moving out here, to the middle of goddamn nowhere. But you never know, right?” He scratches his chin. “And if something should happen to me and Tommy, we’re going to need- I mean, Charlie is going to need someone, yeah? To take care of him.”

Arthur for once doesn’t interrupt, but lets him stand there and ramble.

“And we were wondering if you and Linda could do it,” Alfie finally says. “You know, be his… godparents or what have you.”

Arthur opens his mouth to take a gulp of the cooling air, blinking. Then he nods tightly, and turns to look very intently at the large oak tree, squinting in the light of the setting sun. His jaw clenches tightly, lips pressing together into a thin line. He blinks rapidly. Fuck, if Arthur starts bawling now, Alfie may just have to shoot him, if only to save himself from doing the same. Should’ve insisted that Tommy took care of this instead. Much more stable when it comes to shit like this.

Taking a shaky breath and crossing his arms over his chest, Arthur finally speaks up.

“I am-“ he pauses to swallow and take another equally unsteady breath. “Emotionally compromised right now…”

The words hang in the air for a long moment, and then Alfie bursts out laughing, slapping Arthur’s back hard enough to send him stumbling out onto the lawn.

“Yeah, well, just give me the answer any time. Soon as you stop being-“ the laughter bubbles up again, drowning the words, and he just barely manages to choke out, “Emotionally compromised. Fuckin’ell, mate.”

Returning the shove with equal force, Arthur breaks into a fit of laughter too. And they stand there like two fucking idiots, giving the kids a run for their money. Alfie blames the sleep deprivation.  

“Of course,” Arthur says on a long intake of air once the fit has subsided, wiping tears from his eyes. And who’s to tell where they came from? “Fuck- of course. God fucking forbid I ever have to make good on this promise. But of course.” He shakes his head, hands coming to rest on his hips as his eyes flicker to the ground. “Bloody hell, you can’t just spring these sorts of things on me, you wanker,” he continues. “Stick to being a fucking pain in my arse instead.”

“Think I’ll stick to being a pain in your brother’s arse. Know my way around that by now.”

“There we go.” Arthur emphasizes his words by jabbing a finger at Alfie. “Right back to the inappropriate fucking bullshit. That’s the man I know and occasionally don’t want to murder.”

A little while later, John and Arthur with their respective families say their goodbyes. Which in itself takes about half an hour, as all the children need to hug everyone, Rose’s shoe is missing, Billy’s cap is lost somewhere in the garden and Sibyl lies face first on the hallway floor and announces she’s too tired to walk anywhere, even to the car. Sam is the only one cooperating, having found a very large stick that he’s eager to bring home to his collection. But eventually, John finds his oldest daughter’s shoe, Cyril sniffs out the cap and Esme hoists her youngest up on her hip, takes her son by the hand and they can be on their way.

Alfie is left with Ada, Finn and Polly as they clear the kitchen table. It’s right about then he realises that Tommy has been gone an awfully long time. Maybe he should check in on him, make sure Charlie isn’t being fussy… Then again, he definitely doesn’t want to give him the impression he doesn’t trust Tommy to take care him. Tommy has done enough of that sort of thinking himself. But fuck it, this debate will lead nowhere. He excuses himself.

Leaving the lively kitchen to walk upstairs to the peaceful quarters of the second floor, Alfie listens for any sounds of cries. It’s completely silent.

The door to the nursery is ajar, and he carefully opens it, popping his head into the dimly lit room. Tommy is asleep, curled up in the armchair next to Charlie’s crib, boots deposited on the floor and the book tilting in a slack grip. Planting his feet on the threshold, Alfie takes in the sight. A slight breeze is seeping in through the window, stirring the mobile over Charlie’s crib and making soft shadows dance on the wall. Charlie is sleeping just as soundly as his father, sprawled on his back with the tiny arms over his head.

He just barely manages to resist the urge to pinch himself.

“Think me and Tommy are calling it a night,” he announces to the remaining family members in the kitchen, where the atmosphere is decidedly calmer now. 

“What time is it?” Finn looks out the window with sudden confusion. The golden light filling the garden is slowly giving way for a colder, bluer tone, but it’s far from dark yet.

“Well, we’re on a bit of a different schedule at the moment,” Alfie states. “But you lot all know where you’re sleeping, and where the whiskey is. So I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Sure we will.” Polly gives him a dismissive wave and a decidedly sly smile. “Go take care of your husband instead of worrying about us.”

Tommy is still sound asleep when he returns, and Cyril has joined him in the nursery, snoring peacefully next to the crib. Quietly crossing the floor, Alfie closes the window, before walking up to Tommy’s sleeping form and leaning down to kiss his forehead. There’s a slight flutter to the long eyelashes. Tommy curls up a little tighter. But he remains asleep. He doesn’t even wake up when Alfie scoops him up into his arms and carries him across the hallway to their bedroom.

It’s not until Alfie puts him down on the bed and begins to unbutton his shirt that he opens his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows and looking with confusion at his new surroundings.  

“What’s going on?” he wonders, voice laced with sleepy gravel as he slumps back down onto the mattress. 

“Oh, just giving you some assistance getting ready for bed, love,” Alfie says and maneuvers his pliant limbs to push the suspenders off his shoulders. “Getting to be somewhat of an expert at that aren’t I? Can’t even fucking count the times you’ve been too out of sorts to do it yourself.” He unbuttons Tommy’s trousers, fingers moving automatically as they carry out the familiar motions. “Some things never change, I suppose.”

Tommy gives him an absolutely lovely, sleepy smile and lifts his hips, allowing for Alfie to pull his trousers down over them. Familiar, this too.

After removing his own clothing, Alfie crawls into be next to him, feeling as if his entire body sighs at the pleasant sensation.

“It’s too early to sleep,” Tommy mutters and nuzzles Alfie’s chest, his heavy eyelids contradicting this statement. “You could…” he yawns. “You could go downstairs if you’d like.”

“Oh, there’s no place I’d rather be, you know that sweetheart.” His arms find their normal position around Tommy’s body, anchoring him in warmth. “And you heard Linda. It’s important to _make time_ for each other.”

“Who knew there’d be a day when you took advice from Linda?” Tommy mutters, half asleep already. Before Alfie can answer, his breathing has deepened to a soft, rolling wave. Alfie falls asleep soon thereafter.  

…

He wakes up and is suspiciously well rested, and that’s honestly bloody concerning. As a rule, Charlie wakes up at the crack of dawn and lets his fathers know that he’s quite finished being in bed, and demands that someone pays attention to him immediately. This silence is suspicious to say the least. Groggy from the unusual amount of sleep, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to the nursery. When he finds the crib empty, he experiences a moment of complete and utter dread, before his brain catches up with him. The house is full of people, someone else has taken care of him.

He finds his missing son in the kitchen, seated in Polly’s lap.

“Good morning,” she says brightly. “This little man let me know he was awake when I passed by, so I figured I could fulfill some of my grandmotherly duties while I was here. Let you and Tommy sleep for a while.”

Charlie laughs and extends both arms towards Alfie, making a noise that with some imagination could be the start of the word ‘daddy’. Someone less perceptive may have said it’s just a gurgled ‘da!’, but Alfie knows better.

“Morning love.” Alfie beams and picks Charlie up, hoisting him very carefully into the air. “Already up and about I see?” Charlie announces in his usual incoherent way that he is indeed very up and about. Alfie presses a kiss onto his nose before handing him back to Polly and goes about preparing himself for another battle of wills over a bowl of porridge.

Soon, Finn and Ada come to join them, and the usual morning pleasantries are exchanged as Alfie prepares Charlie’s food and Polly takes care of the rest of the breakfast. Finn entertains Charlie by letting him sit on his lap, and gently bounces him up and down as he tells the other occupants of a dream he had. Never really grew out of things like that; in so many ways he still is the excitable ten year old Alfie first saw at the top of that stairway all those years ago. Alfie is grateful for a whole lot of things, and that is just one of them.

“Luckily, I woke up right then,” Finn concludes the story just as Tommy comes into the kitchen.

“Morning, love,” Alfie looks up from the stove and cranes his neck just slightly to allow for Tommy to give him a chaste kiss. 

“Morning.” Tommy’s hand brushes lightly over his shoulder in passing. “And good morning to you, Charlie.” Alfie can hear the smile in Tommy’s voice, and he’s greeted with a happy squeal.

The bright hours before lunch are spent out in the garden. Alfie mentions a dead branch on the oak tree, just in passing, but Finn jumps on the chance of cutting this down, happily climbing the trunk as if he were twelve again, while Ada and Polly look on from the ground.

Alfie stays on the ground too, bundling Charlie up in several layers of clothing to combat the early autumn chill and settling him on a blanket on the lawn. Strange, to be beaming with pride at someone being able to sit upright by themselves, but Alfie finds himself doing so nonetheless. Charlie watches the spectacle in the tree with great interest, pointing at his uncle every now and then as if to ask Alfie if he’s seeing this too. Alfie nods each time, telling Charlie that yes, that’s uncle Finn, and he’s just a little odd like that but we love him all the same.

“It was May,” Tommy says as he sits down next to them, returning from a phone call. “Wondered if I could come by the stables.”

“Well, I think we’re okay here. Got a whole team, don’t I?” Alfie says and nods towards Polly and Ada. Finn is not a force to be reckoned with right now. He’s definitely reverted into a child himself up in the tree.

“It can wait.” Tommy shrugs. “Said we’d take care of it on Monday.”

Alfie lets out a gasp, clutching Tommy’s shoulder with feigned urgency. “Who are you and what have you done to my husband?”

Charlie crawls with impressive speed towards the edge of the blanket and snatches a dead leaf from the lawn that he studies with cross-eyed fascination, before attempting to put it in his mouth.

“No, love, that’s not for eating,” Tommy chides softly and takes the leaf away, replacing it with a small rabbit plushiewhen Charlie scrunches his face up. Charlie settles for this and begins chewing the rabbit’s ear as Tommy pulls him into his lap. Something stirs in Tommy’s eyes, a thought clearly brought on by Alfie’s comment.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Alfie says. “Didn’t mean to turn that into a whole thing.”

Tommy shakes his head in a tiny gesture. _It’s fine. Let it go_. He lets it go.

Over by the tree, Polly is now calling for Finn to come down before he falls to his death, as her youngest nephew is climbing as high as he possibly can among the branches. Ada threatens to remove the ladder and leave him up there. Finn just laughs at them, heaving himself up yet a bit higher with a strong arm.

Alfie has more than once announced to himself that _this this is the happiest moment of his entire life_. His and Tommy’s wedding day. First night in the new house. The day they brought Charlie home… _Every single fucking day that he gets to be alive and have Tommy there_. It’s already an extensive list. This is going on there too.

“Can you imagine, eh? One day we’ll probably sit on this lawn and watch Charlie climb up there,” Alfie muses and nods up towards Finn, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. Tommy says nothing. But they both look down at Charlie, who gives them a gummy smile and raises both arms. Then up at Finn, who is currently just showing off,  hanging by his knees from a branch. Then back to Charlie.

Tommy clears his throat, “Maybe we should-“

Alfie nods tightly, “Cut that tree down?”

“Definitely.”  
“Unnecessary for it to take up this much fucking space.”

Charlie tries to clamber up onto Alfie’s lap, and he helps the endeavor by giving him a little push. He keeps the hand on Charlie’s back as he pulls himself upright by the lapels of Alfie’s coat, face set in stubborn determination and then breaking into a smile as he succeeds. Albeit with some subtle assistance from Alfie. Shuffling a bit closer, Tommy leans against his side, sighing as he watches Charlie cling to Alfie’s coat.

“But then I guess we’d have to chop down the whole bloody forest,” he contemplates, adding as an afterthought, “Not that I wouldn’t do it.”

“I have no doubt.” Alfie runs a thumb over Charlie’s petal soft cheek, pulling down the hat a bit over his ears. “Suppose you can’t realistically chop down every tree in England. So I guess we’ll just have to make sure he knows how to climb them properly, yeah? Without falling down.”

Tommy smiles.

“Yeah. I suppose that’ll have to do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the silliness of this fic's existence, I love it a little, and could expand on this in the future. I mean, will John ever Kill All The Birds? Will Alfie finally get some undisturbed kitchen sex? What about Arthur's plants? And was that badger dead or not? So many hard pressing questions. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it for what it is! And fear not. I'm working on a request with violence and angst that you can read as therapy if this killed you.


End file.
